


Lux et veritas

by nesrin



Series: Fiat lux [8]
Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018), Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff, F/M, Gen, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Needs A Hug, Nicholas Scratch needs a hug, Nick gets a mom (kind of), Protective Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), even if it's bittersweet, i promise there is some happiness, i'm so mean to this poor child but hopefully there is equal pay off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:35:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22027924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nesrin/pseuds/nesrin
Summary: "I believe you requested something when I left, nephew," Michael said, putting an arm on Nick's shoulders."My mother?" Nick said softly, scared of what the answers would be.Or: Nick finally gets some answers about his mother.
Relationships: Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) & Nicholas Scratch (Chilling Adventures of Sabrina), minor Sabrina Spellman/Nicholas Scratch
Series: Fiat lux [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1268510
Comments: 10
Kudos: 166





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unamericanamerican](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unamericanamerican/gifts).



> This story (and series) is Canon Divergent/AU from Lucifer Season 3 and Chilling Adventures of Sabrina Part 1. I'm taking bits of canon and fitting them to this timeline.

Nick didn't get to spend a lot of time with his father. He had come to accept that. His father was the Devil. He had to rule Hell, punish the guilty. Nick thought it was a lot cooler than other kids who had parents who were potion masters or moriticans. When his dad wasn't there, he always had Astra. She knew every herb in existence and their properties. People in the Church would come to her for everything from colds to ritual preparations. Nick loved Astra, just like his dad, but he knew something was different. He knew she wasn't his mother, and no one ever tried to hide that. It was okay, she loved him. His dad was consistently there every year, and Gwyllgi showed up often enough. But no one mentioned his mother. 

Nick had asked once, when he was little. It was just him and Astra in the kitchen; he sipped cocoa while she prepared some tincture. He blurted out the question with no preamble, and Astra stopped her knife mid-chop. He immediately worried that he did something bad from how silent she was. Astra always had an answer. 

“Your mother was a very nice witch. She lived far away from here, and she passed away shortly after you were born. Some bad people wanted to hurt her, and she did everything to protect you,” Astra explained. There was so much she could add, but Nick never needed to hear that.

“Why didn't Dad protect her? He always says he will protect me from anything,” Nick said. His eyebrows were furrowed in deep thought. “Didn't he care about her?”

“Oh, Sweet, your father would have done anything to protect her, I’m sure. He didn't know about you, or the danger she was in, until it was too late.” She left her ingredients on the board and sat next to him, pulling him into a hug. 

“What happened to the bad people who hurt her?” Nick asked after a few minutes, the question muffled as he buried his face in Astra’s shawl. 

“Your father took care of them. He made sure they will never hurt anyone again,” Astra said, holding him tightly. 

Lucifer had been scarce on the details of exactly what happened when he took custody of Nick. He gave her the file they found to read so she would have a background, then took it away to either get rid of or hide somewhere. She didn't want it in the house where Nick could find it, so she was happy not knowing. That horrid file had detailed every step of their grotesque scheme, from choosing the mother to accounts and evidence of conception. There were graphic details of the birth and immediate execution of the mother. Then, of course, there was their utter disregard for the child until he was old enough to indoctrinate. Lucifer was stoic in general, but when she held his arm and told him she was sorry for what happened, Astra swore she saw a mistiness in his eyes. The devil was not emotionless.

Astra knew Lucifer was trying to shield Nick as much as possible. And a child certainly didn't need the gory details of what happened to his parents. No one needed to know it, except perhaps someone Lucifer could talk to so he could heal. Astra knew the Lord of Hell would hardly let himself be that vulnerable, but she kept up hope. Mazikeen was devoted, so maybe one day he could lean on her. For now, Astra had a little boy who needed some comfort and a trip to bed.

“You know how your dad sends Gwyllgi here sometimes to check up on us?” Astra asked. Nick nodded. “Well, I know you are such a powerful warlock that one day you will be able to do that yourself. You are going to be one of the strongest warlocks this Church has ever seen. In the meantime, I know your dad will protect you.”

“Can I have a slice of cake before bed?” Nick’s pout was his signature, surely inherited directly from Lucifer. Astra huffed but nodded. He was far too good at getting what he wanted.

“One small piece, then bed!” she declared. Nick grinned and hugged her waist. 

* * *

Nick was eleven the first time he asked Lucifer about his mother. It was the day after his birthday, and they were playing with Gwyllgi outside. Lucifer hardly needed a coat, but he put one on after a look from Astra. He had to set a good example, after all. Nick was bundled up with gloves and a scarf, with his pants tucked into his boots. They certainly made the pair, sitting on a bench as Nick threw a ball for Gwyllgi to chase. 

“Dad, do you promise you won't be mad at me?” Nick began, immediately setting Lucifer on edge. He took his focus off the hellhound slobbering over his pants and turned to better see his son. 

“Nicholas, I could never be mad at you. You’re my son. I might be disappointed, if you did something dangerous or lied,” Lucifer said carefully, “but I will always love you.”

“I want to know about my mom. Astra told me bad people hurt her, but that's all I know,” Nick said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. He sank a gloved hand into Gwyllgi’s fur hoping to draw courage from the dog. Lucifer wanted to take away that pain, but the subject would only increase it. 

“How about we go inside for some cocoa, and I will tell you everything I can,” Lucifer said, wrapping an arm around Nick. His son was growing so quickly that he absentmindedly wondered if he was making sure Astra had enough for clothes. They were both seated at the table with steaming mugs, Gwyllgi resting on the floor, when they spoke. 

“You don't have to tell me. I just wanted to know her name,” Nick said quietly, almost broken. Lucifer steeled himself. He reached a hand across to hold Nick’s. 

“Son, you've done nothing wrong. It is just difficult for me to talk about. Never be afraid to ask me things, okay?” Lucifer squeezed his hand before settling his own back on his mug. He wished he had a flask to add something to it. “Your mother's name was Brigid. She didn't have much time with you, but I know she loved you very much. Enough to give everything to protect you.”

“So I’m the reason she died?” Nick asked, confirming the thought he had for years. 

“No! Never! Nicholas, there were very bad people who wanted to take you. It was their fault, never yours. Nor hers. You are an innocent, wonderful child, and I know your mother would say the same if she were here.”

“Can you talk to her? Down there?” The child's voice was quiet, sad. Lucifer's heart broke. 

“I know everyone who enters Hell, and I promise your mother did not,” Lucifer said. “She is in the Silver City, which is exactly where she belongs.”

“Why did the bad people want to hurt her?” Nick was picking at a spot on the table for something to do. 

“They were terrible people, Nicholas. I promise they received, and still do, the worst Hell has.” Lucifer took a drink before adding, “They wanted to make your mother do something without her consent. They made it happen, and when they felt they didn't need her, they killed her. I wish I had known. I would have…well, anyway, she is at peace now.”

Nick was silent for a few minutes, processing the information. Lucifer wasn't sure how to help. He wasn't even sure what meaningless platitudes humans usually say when speaking about dead people. He wouldn't lie. 

“Dad, was she buried somewhere? Back there?” Nick asked finally. 

“Yes, we made sure she was,” Lucifer said. Maze had more than him, honestly. Lucifer was struggling with the revelations and the baby. 

“Can we…do you think I could go see her?” Nick asked hesitantly. Lucifer wanted to tell him how it was just a body, that her soul was gone, but the boy looked so fragile. Lucifer nodded. 

“We can go tomorrow,” Lucifer promised. 

That conversation was how Lucifer found himself flying his son halfway across the country to place flowers on his mother's grave. Lucifer kept a comforting hand on Nick’s shoulder. The boy clutched the bouquet of gladiolus and roses, which he had carefully picked out with Astra’s help. They walked to the upright marble stone bearing her name. Nick placed the flowers down, not sure what to do. 

“What do those sigils means?” he asked, noticing the marks along the base of the headstone. 

“Protection and remembrance,” Lucifer said, bending down to brush his hand across them. He was desperately trying to stay strong for Nick. He deserved someone to help him, not the one currently struggling to not crumble as memories flashed through his mind. Brigid had been completely innocent in everything. He should have been there, been stronger, stopped it all. A little hand on his cheek drew Lucifer out of his thoughts. 

“It’s okay to be sad, right, Dad? But you said she is in Heaven now, so she is happy,” Nick said. Lucifer drew him into a hug. 

“Yes, of course we can be sad. But you are right, she is happy. Of course, I’m sure she will be much happier when she gets to meet you, even if that won't happen for a long time,” Lucifer said. Nick pulled back with a confused face. 

“But if she is in Heaven, how will she meet me?” he asked. “I’m going to be with you, right?”

Lucifer felt more tears in his eyes. Surely all of this was some weird punishment from his Father. Of course he would never think of Nick as a punishment, but his son actually wanting to go to Hell? That might be worse than his own Fall. 

“Nicholas, you will never go to Hell. If there is one thing I can promise you, it’s that. You are too good to ever go there,” Lucifer said. 

“But you are good, and you live there.” This was more painful than anything Michael could do, so maybe his Father was finally getting his way. 

“No, I did something that made my Father angry, so I have to stay there. But you will get to go meet your mother and her family, and maybe even pull a trick or two on Gabriel.”

“What if I want to be with you?” Nick asked quietly. Lucifer brushed his hand through Nick’s hair. 

“It’s not going to be an issue for a long time, is it?” Lucifer said. “Now why don't we say goodbye to your mother and go back home?”

* * *

  
  


Nick had been in Los Angeles for some time when he finally got the courage to mention something that was bothering him. Lucifer was taking care of some business with Lux. Nick had to insist because his father wanted as much time with him as possible, but Nick also knew he couldn’t put his own life on hold. That was how Nick found himself sitting next to Michael, who was on the couch reading. 

“If you think any harder, I think steam might come out of your ears,” Michael commented, glancing up.

“I see the classic Earth pop culture references are becoming familiar,” Nick said, twitching his fingers that were itching to form a small star. He settled for opening the glass doors leading to the balcony, allowing a breeze to blow through.

“He did that, too. I doubt he does now, with trying to keep his secret, but he would make things whenever he was nervous,” Michael explained, setting his book aside. He was going through the works of Nathaniel Hawthorne, who seemed to write an awful lot about the Devil. Surprisingly, his stories seemed to focus on human depravity rather than satanic intervention, making Michael wondered if Lucifer had actually known this man. There was surely an interesting story there.

“What would make Dad nervous?” Nick asked, producing a guitar pick and flicking it across his fingers. 

“More than you'd expect. Our Father’s missions. When Mom and Dad would argue. When he had something big to ask and was desperately trying to avoid it,” Michael said, raising an eyebrow. Nick rolled his eyes, relaxing into the couch. Subtle as a freight train. 

“I was wondering…did you ever meet my mom?” Nick said, looking at his own hands playing with the pick. Michael was sure that behavior was picked up directly from time with Lucifer. The resemblance to Samael was enough to make Michael pause.

“I was never on Earth with Lucifer, and from what I understand, he hardly knew-”

“No, I, uh, know about that. He told me some, and I found some in Edward’s journals. And Maze, well, she knew when I needed to know. No, I meant did you ever see her up there?” Nick asked. He uselessly gestured toward the sky. 

“I wasn't really involved in soul transport. Or anything with them at all. And I never really thought it would be a good idea, with my appearance being so similar. It's not Heaven if you relive…” Michael trailed off. He felt like he misspoke, chastising himself for the casual reference.

“But she is there? For sure?”

“Oh, yes. I thought your father would have told you that,” Michael said, shaking his head. Nick sounded scared, and at least he could fix that worry. 

“He told me, but I thought that maybe if he was so busy he didn't notice me for six months, then maybe he missed one person coming into Hell,” Nick admitted. “I just want to know if she is happy.”

“I can't really answer that without going back and finding her,” Michael said, sharing a look with his nephew, “but I can tell you a little bit about it there. Probably more than your father wants to.”

Michael spent the next twenty minutes explaining the Silver City. He detailed the layout and process for souls, explained which angels were actually involved, and what had upset Lucifer enough for a Rebellion. Nick was far more forgiving for Michael’s own role, which was a relief. He never would have imagined that his twin’s son would be the one he most wanted to please. Nick was a piece of Lucifer that hadn’t been touched by the terrible decisions they made so long ago.

"I just want to know if she's okay. If she…knows me. What she thinks," Nick admitted. "I never got to talk to her. I only have one old picture that my dad was able to find on one of our trips."

Michael could see how Nick's eyes began shimmering as he fought to hold back tears. This wasn't a pain he could fix like the injured arm. Emotional wounds wouldn't heal that easily.

"I know she is safe. Okay. If you really want me to, I will - Father forgive me - find her when I go back. I know I will be busy when I first go back, but I will make time. And I will let you know what I can," Michael promised.

"Really?" Nick asked, too scared to even hope. Michael nodded seriously before hugging his nephew. He tried to lighten the mood by picking two random movies and making Nick explain them before picking one to watch. Nick enjoyed his fascination with the TV, and it focused him on something safer than his mother.

* * *

Michael had been gone for so long, and Nick had been through so much, that he almost forgot his request. Between Hell and moving to Los Angeles permanently, finally getting resolution with his mother wasn't the top priority. Of course, he had her picture by his desk with the others, but starting a new school kept him busy. Until the day Michael returned. 

"You have stirred things up quite a bit, nephew," Michael said, entering from the balcony to sit next to Nick on the piano bench. Nick continued and finished the song before smiling and hugging his uncle. 

"Well, Dad wanted me to move here. And he was right about the Academy not being the best. MIA is more thorough and definitely better for me," he said. It was obvious within one day that the Medea Institute of the Arcane could beat the Academy of Unseen Arts with one hand tied behind its back. Even the architecture exuded magic.

"Oh, that wasn't what I meant. But, yes, that too. Taking some of the strongest magic users in that area and moving them to another ruffles a few feathers."

Nick groaned when Michael emphasized the pun by creating a gentle breeze with his wings before folding them. It was difficult to tell if Lucifer or Michael had worse jokes. Somehow Nick was the one stuck listening to most of them. Both brothers would dislike his comparison.

"I think that this world is lucky it hadn't had to deal with you and Dad teaming up until now. It wouldn't have survived," Nick commented. "And what exactly did I do, other than move here?" 

"Well, you brought me here, which changed my entire view of your father, and to make a long story short, things are changing in the Silver City. At least, I'm trying. I wanted to come back when you had your trip to Hell, but I got caught up."

"That wasn't that big of a deal." They both knew Nick was lying, but neither mentioned it. At least the human doctor was seeing Nick now. Michael had, unfortunately, been distracted when Nick was captured. He could have intervened. Should have. Instead, Lucifer was alone once again. He shook his head, realizing now was not the time to wallow in self-pity. 

"I believe you requested something when I left, nephew," Michael said, putting an arm on Nick's shoulders. 

"My mother?" Nick said softly, scared of what the answers would be. His shoulders were tense, and his fingers began a familiar twitch. Michael nodded. His nephew seemed more fragile, most likely because of those demons. Lucifer had surely taken care of them, but Michael was feeling righteous enough to want to exact his own punishment. That could wait. Right now he had a nephew to relieve. 

"Brigid is a wonderful soul. Normally I'm not supposed to be a messenger and all that, but Amenadiel broke that rule with Chloe. And the Old Man has a bit of a soft spot for you. Anyway, I went as you requested. We had an interesting conversation. I believe the most important pieces for you are the answers to your questions."

"Is she happy?" Michael had seen Nick in a few different emotional states: hurt, happy, scared, relieved, and content. Nothing could compare to the mix of worry, hope, and reservation he currently wore.

"Yes. She wants you to know that. She said that getting to watch you is the happiest she has ever been," Michael responded. Nick couldn't stop the catch in his breath or the tears streaming down his face. 

"Really? She watches me?" he choked out. 

"That is what she spends the most time doing. She wants you to know how much she loves you, from the first time she felt you move." Michael stopped, figuring out how to say the next part. "She also wanted to thank you for the flowers every year."

Nick was sure this would be a dream now. Michael could be lying to make him feel better. If Lucifer said it, he might be more inclined to believe it. It was too sacred to lie, though. If what he said was true, they all saw what happened. Michael would have been upset. Nick had a feeling that his words were true. 

"Did she say anything else?" Nick asked, wiping his eyes. 

"She had so much that she wanted to say. First, she wanted you to know that she is so proud of the young man you are becoming. She is glad you have a good family around you, that you can count on your father. She also said you are the best witch of your generation, at least as far as she has seen. She knows you work hard and is glad you are finally being challenged at your new school. Oh, and she loves when you play music. Last, she wants you to stop feeling guilty. She hopes you accept that you aren't the reason she is gone. She hopes you can finally be happy with your father instead of being worried it will end or that you don't deserve it."

Nick let the words settle around him, glancing up toward the sky. Was she watching now? What would she say? It was almost like he heard her voice, what he knew would be her voice, while Michael was speaking. That was impossible. It was probably his mind playing tricks. 

"I can't tell you how much that means, Uncle Michael," Nick said. "I never thought I would get to hear her. Or her words."

"Well, then I have a bit more good news. I was going to wait for your father, but you deserve the truth now. Brigid told me she kept a journal during her pregnancy. She wrote to you before you were born. And the journal is still where she hid it before you were born," Michael said. 

"Do you have it?" Nick asked, unable to contain the excitement. He jumped up from the piano bench, rubbing his palms together.

"No, I thought you should go and have the chance to get it. It's back in Michigan. The house that she lived in, with her family, was abandoned after. She left it there, under a few spells, in hopes that you could find it one day."

"Let’s go,” Nick said immediately, before stalling his pacing to add, “I should probably wait for Dad to come home. But he might be awhile.”

"Maybe if you explain it to him. And it might not take that long. I don't think there is much in the house other than her box," Michael said. 

Nick looked at Gwyllgi and Persephone. Persephone flew over to the bar, landing near the pad of stationary Lucifer kept for notes. She nodded at it, learly frustrated at his slow realization, and Nick understood that she meant that he should leave a message. That way, there was no need to text him and worry him while working. Nick went to the pad, which had the four-point star symbol with an M in the middle as a watermark. Nick admitted it was better than other symbols Lucifer was associated with. Nick used it to explain that Michael was with him, and Persephone approved. He promised to keep his phone on and call if there was any problem. Once he signed the note, he folded it, wrote "Dad" and put it next to Persephone. 

"I know you can teleport, but this is a new place. Do you want me to fly us?" Michael asked. 

"Sure," Nick agreed, feeling slightly queasy when he remembered the last time he flew, it was out of Hell. Luckily, Michael was as good at the seamless and quick flying style that Lucifer had. When Nick opened his eyes, he was in a snowy, wooded area. Gwyllgi appeared next to them, intent on protecting his charge. The coverage was so dense that the brightest light was the snow. Michael pointed, indicating a large, white house. Nick wasn't an architecture student, but he could tell from the weathering that is was old. There were large windows, most of which were broken and boarded up. Vines were snaking all over the exterior, making it seem like nature was trying to pull the house back.

"She said the room was upstairs, to the right. She said you should be able to undo the spell easily," Michael said. 

Nick nodded, following him in the house. They found the door, painted a soft blue. The room inside was mostly empty. An old metal bed frame, half broken, was still in one corner. Nick closed his eyes, trying to feel the pull of a spell. He immediately went to the closet, but it was empty. There was a tugging from his detection charm, pulling him to the back corner, where Gwyllgi was sniffing. Nick shooed him and kneeled down, running his fingers along the floorboards. He felt the small pocket of space, slipping a finger in to lift it up. One board came loose, revealing a wooden box with a triquetra engraved and painted green on top. A layer of dust covered the box, flying when Nick pulled the box up. He quickly summoned light to check if there was anything else in the hole. He felt that this was the box, though. He got the same feeling as when he visited his mother's grave, like a calm, loving presence was there. He noticed a name engraved under the symbol.  _ Brigid Ó Cionaoith _ . That was her. His mother. 

Michael spoke, stirring him out of his thoughts, "Nick, we should go. We don't want to be gone too long."

"Sorry, Uncle Michael. Can we make one stop first?" Nick asked. He was able to teleport them to the snowy cemetery he knew well. Nick led them on the short walk to her headstone. He conjured up a bouquet of gladiolus and roses, laying them softly on the ground he cleaned some of the snow off the stone, then made a decision. The stone simply said "Brigid", with no surname or dates. The sigils covered the base, but Nick had the chance to do more. He put his hand over his mother's forename and closed his eyes. He opened them and felt a sad smile tugging at his lips. 

_ Brigid Ó Cionaoith _

_ Máthair dhíl  _

Lucifer had certainly been correct about the language issue; Nick knew the Gaelic without struggling. He brushed his hand over the new engravings, imagining her standing by him with a smile. He whispered a few thoughts, thanking her and sending his love before returning to Michael. 

"Nicholas, I am lucky you are my nephew," Michael said, patting their clasped hands, which Nick used to transport them and the box back to Los Angeles. Lucifer was waiting at the piano, drink next to him, when they arrived. Persephone hooted in greeting, and Nick gave her a pat for a job well done. 

"So you tried to kidnap my son, brother?" Lucifer asked, standing up to unconsciously check Nick over for injuries. He looked sad but not hurt, and he held a foot-long box in his arms. 

"I would never, Lucifer. We just took a trip," Michael said, embracing Lucifer. He whispered, "It is his mother's. I met her."

"Tell me what Michigan was like," Lucifer said, stepping back. 

"Cold. Boring," Nick said, moving to the kitchen. He rested the box on the table, but seemed reluctant to move away.

"Would you like something to drink? Michael?" Lucifer played perfect host, serving them so Nick could stay with the box. The first thing he noticed was the age. He remembered the small profile on her from the files. It only contained her forename and details such as health, family history, and birthdate. Lucifer knew she was chosen because she was in the right age range, her family was a strong group of witches, and she was marked as 'easily susceptible to persuasion’. They had tricked her, promising her employment in a new city, away from her abusive uncle. She arrived only to be overpowered and drugged, ensuring she was compliant for their ritual. He felt horrible that he had never tried to find her surname, giving him and Nick clues to her. All he had was the black-and-white picture of her next to a fishing boat. Lucifer admitted that thinking about it was too painful, and at least in Hell he was distracted. 

"Did you know her surname?" Nick asked. 

"No, the…what we found only had her first. To protect them, I think. I used my name when buying the plot and stone," Lucifer explained. 

"Ó Cionaoith," Nick said, tracing the letters. 

"Do you know what's in there?" Lucifer asked, looking from Nick to Michael. 

"Brigid only told me about the journal. Um, she wrote a journal to him during her pregnancy," Michael explained. "She just said her favorite things were there."

Lucifer took a deep breath and nodded as Nick opened it. Sitting on top was a wooden Brigid's cross. Nick carefully picked it up, noticing a date was scratched into the back. He handed it to Lucifer, who commented that it was her birthday. Next was a short sword, encrusted with red, orange, and yellow gemstones and a phoenix motif. There was a necklace with a shamrock preserved in resin. The last piece of jewelry was a gold ring with a red gem. The stone had a phoenix engraved in it, and the family name was engraved around the setting. There were two regular bound books,  _ Pygmalion _ and  _ Dubliners _ . Nick smiled as he pulled them out. 

"I guess she is where your literary tastes come from," Lucifer said, smiling to lighten the mood. Under the books were a few photographs in wax paper. Nick carefully looked at each one and what was written on the back before placing it to the side for Lucifer. He found a picture of his mother as a young girl, in a white dress. She didn't look pleased with the picture. There was a family portrait next, where she was in the same white dress. Her parents were in the middle, seated, with three children around them. Brigid was the youngest. Next was a picture of her with three other women in a 1940s style uniform. The back read 'Women's Airforce Service Pilots, 1943'. The last picture was the most modern. It was a Polaroid picture of her in bell bottoms, sitting on the hood of a car. 

There were only two items left. The first was a silk handkerchief with her name embroidered in careful lettering. Finally, he found the journal she promised. The red leather cover compelled him to open it, binding cracking. His eyes roved over the careful script covering every page until it went blank. Entries were dated, and each one began "A stóirín". My little treasure. He knew he would read the whole thing, probably so many times it was memorized, but right now he enjoyed seeing her talk to him. The first entry was introducing herself, saying how silly it was to be writing to a baby not yet born. 

"Nick, are you okay?" Lucifer asked, focused on the tears leaking from his eyes. 

"She wrote to me. Every day, from May to December," Nick said. His face was a mix of sadness and joy. This was the only way to get to know her, and it was detailed. It was better than Michael saying some things. This was her words, in her hand, with scratched out words and doodles.

"I wish. Well, I wish a lot of things. I wish this hadn't taken so long. I'm glad you finally have a chance to get to know her, at least a little," Lucifer said. "And thank you, Michael, for helping him."

"Brigid told me something for you, too," Michael said, making Lucifer's face pale. "She said to thank Astra for her. And to thank you, slap you, then kiss your cheek. Oh, and to say that you have raised a fine young man, and she is grateful."

"I appreciate you skipping the slap and kiss," Lucifer said. Nick smirked, eyes finally drying up so he could read. The entry was explaining who his father was and that she was sure he would love him. She told him to not listen to what other people say about Lucifer. And she hoped he understood one day that what happens is not his fault or theirs. Nick decided that was enough for now and closed the journal. 

"Uncle Michael, are you staying for dinner? Dad made pizza dough, and we have a ton of stuff to put on them," Nick said. 

"I don't want to impose," Michael replied. Nick rolled his eyes. 

"You made the trip down here. You might as well stay awhile. Meet Amenadiel's son. Catch up on Earth TV," Lucifer said. Michael agreed, as they all knew he would, and started discussing how to make pizza. He was fascinated with food. 

Nick was carefully repacking the box when he noticed a small envelope in the bottom. He lifted it up and realized it was for his dad. He handed it to Lucifer, who swallowed when he saw his name scrawled on it. Nick finished packing the box, securing it and deciding to give his dad time by asking Michael to go to his room to see some of his new school books, particularly the phosphoromancy ones. 

Lucifer carefully opened the envelope, setting it to the side. The paper was thicker than most now, but Brigid was a witch. They tended to be a bit stuck in their ways. He decided he couldn't put it off any longer. 

_ 1 December _

_ Dear Lucifer,  _

_ I've been writing to our child for months, and yet I still don't know how to begin this. I know that neither of us chose this. I have no idea what your life is really like. I don't know if you'll ever read this. I hope you do, though. I want you to know that you are  _ _ not  _ _ to blame for what happened, any more than I am. Perhaps I'm more culpable, as I followed strangers because their offer seemed better than my current situation.  _ _ Can I be a foolish child at 200? _

_ I hope you find, or found?, out about your child soon. I am worried about their plans for it. I don't know if it is a boy or girl. I suppose I won't until the birth. And I don't know how long I will last after that. I hope I can see him. (It feels like a boy, from everything my mother taught me.) _

_ My father was Aodhán Ó Cionaoith. My mother was Orla Ó Broin. I had an older brother and sister, Rowan and Aisling. All of them are dead, though you may know more than I do there. Rowan died in battle. Aisling and my parents fell to Witchhunters when I was gone. My uncle Declán took possession of our home and custody of me. I know it seems ridiculous with the times we are in, but witch customs are still behind. They likely still will be when you get this. Maybe if I struck out on my own, I never would have fallen for the trap. But then this precious child wouldn't exist.  _

_ I suppose all my worrying is for naught when you read this. Whatever happens will have happened. My child is the only one who can open the box, so I suppose you know who he (or she) is by now. I hope you were there as soon as you could be. If I had a way to contact you more directly, know that I would have. I am writing this before my final move. I doubt I will ever see the outside of that church. Try to protect our child from that horror.  _

_ I should be writing what I want the child to be named and how he should be raised. In truth, that all pales next to my worry for this coven having him. If he's scared, protect him. If he's in pain, help him. If he's crying, comfort him. That is all I wish. Be a good father to our child. _

_ I wish I had forever to write all the things I hope he knows. I'm sneaking as it is. Tell my little treasure that I love them more than anything. I will gladly give up my life if it protects them. Remind them that they come from a long line of talented witches. And angels, I suppose. One day I hope to meet them, but if I never can, tell them that I knew they were special as soon as I knew I was pregnant. It's not just the parentage. I can feel it. I've never been one to see the future, but in my dreams I think I've met him. He tells me about his incredible school, how he is blending his powers. He tells me you were there for every birthday. That you gave him the stars. I hope all of that is true, and if it isn't yet, consider it my last wish.  _

_Sincerely_ _Best_ _Love,_

_ Brigid Ó Cionaoith _

_ P.S. I am including a list explaining the contents of the box.  _

> _ Contents: _
> 
>   * _Pygmalion and Dubliners - my two favorite books_
> 

>   * _Photographs - I hope our child enjoys small snapshots of my life before this._
> 

>   * _Short sword - This has been passed down through my family for generations. It goes to the oldest male descendent, but only I am left._
> 

>   * _Shamrock - I picked this Shamrock the day before we left Ireland and preserved it to always remember my home._
> 

>   * _Ó Cionaoith Ring - This was my father's family ring. His father gave it to him._
> 

>   * _Brigid's Cross - My brother made this the day before I was born, and it has hung above my door since then._
>   * _Journal - I know I will likely never get to know this child, so I am writing to them in hopes they can know me. And know they are loved._
> 


Lucifer hadn't realized he was crying until a tear fell onto the paper. She was so talented and clever. She should have had a better fate. Nick would have grown up so differently with a strong and caring role model. One parent was better than none. 

Knowing there is only one way to distract himself, Lucifer carefully folds the letter. He will show it to Nick, but later. He has had enough for one day. Stowing the letter into his breast pocket, Lucifer calls for his son and brother, explaining that he is going to start the pizzas.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick finally gets something he always dreamed of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I thought I was done, but the muse said otherwise. I can't leave it angsty, can I?

Lucifer was working, Amenadiel was perfecting his role as stay-at-home dad, and Michael was left wandering around the penthouse. He enjoyed the television, but he couldn't find anything interesting on it. Noticing Nick's door was open, he peeked. His nephew was seated at his desk, pictures of his mother spread out around the journal in front of him. Michael knocked, shaking Nick from his thoughts. 

"I thought you went to class already," Michael said, walking in to lean against the desk. That broody look was all too familiar, but normally it was from Lucifer.

"It was cancelled today," Nick said, twiddling his fingers. Michael smirked at the obviously inherited habit.

"No Sabrina?" 

"She still had Herbology and Brewing," Nick said, flicking his fingers to collect the photos back in their new album with preservation charms. Michael had been the one to help Nick find the right spell to keep the pictures from deteriorating. Searching through old magic texts was a good way to spend some of his time on earth.

"You have spent a lot of time alone with that book. Anything you want to share?" Michael asked softly, laying a hand on Nick’s shoulder. 

"It's stupid," Nick said, getting up and putting the photos and journal back in the original box - which had every protection charm known and only opened for Nick. He wore the family ring on his index finger while the one from Lucifer was on his ring finger. The Brigid's Cross hung above his door, and the short sword was on a display rack next to his bed. Michael knew Nick was struggling, but he hadn't quite understood the depth. Now, with fresh eyes, his nephew was clearly drowning as he tried to process his own history.

"Nick, I doubt anything you come up with could be as stupid as what your father used to do. Try me," Michael said, watching as Nick focused on his owl, back turned so Michael couldn’t see his face. Persephone was softly cooing at the attention. 

"I want...I think I can…Dad would be so angry," Nick mumbled, never completing the thought and shaking his head.

"I'm going to need more information," Michael said. Nick sighed loudly, but wouldn't turn around. 

"I want to visit the Silver City. Heaven. Whatever. I want to see my mother," Nick said, glaring out the window at the city. 

"Nick, your body can't make the trip there. Your Dad, well, you saw what happened when he made the trip the other way. And he's a full angel," Michael said. He would do anything to help Nick, but he wouldn’t let him get hurt.

"Didn't we figure out that was all psychological? And you make the trip here and back. So does Amenadiel. Not to mention the other siblings poking around," Nick said, rolling his eyes. He smirked before adding, "Anyway, I wasn't planning on taking my body."

"Then how…oh no. No way. Lucifer will kill me. Too much could happen," Michael said. "Humans aren't meant to traverse the dimensions that way, witch or not. You could get trapped there. Those horrible little bird things could get you. More importantly, Azrael might be forced to carry you…no. Absolutely not, Nicholas."

Michael was pacing, knowing Nick was too stubborn. He was so much like his father. It was like their younger years all over again. The stubborn set of Nick’s shoulders, the determination in his eyes, and the cocky confidence in his voice.

"Just five minutes. Fifteen at most. I know the signs. And I'm not asking permission," Nick said, turning around and crossing his arms. Michael saw that flicker of red in his eyes, the one he and Lucifer could only speculate about. They fully admitted that Nick had far more powers than they realized. Michael wasn’t completely sure what that would mean with this determination.

"Could you, for one minute, stop being like your father and think logically?" Michael begged. "She left you that journal. She told me what to tell you. She wants you to be here and living your life, not worrying about her."

"So I don't deserve to meet her, just once? Especially since I am perfectly capable?"

Michael tried to calm down by taking a deep breath. This was going to be an uphill battle, because Nick was convincing. Admittedly, Michael was also slightly weak when it came to his nephew. 

"Nick, your father still can't go up there. How do you know that doesn't extend to you?" 

"I have to try," Nick said, pulling a box of candles out from his closet. 

"Nicholas! Stop! At least wait for your dad to be back. I'll go call him on that fellytone thing," Michael said, trying to sound firm. 

"Again, not asking permission," Nick said. "He'll stop me. If I go now, he doesn't even have to know. At least until it's over."

"Why me, Father?" Michael said, looking up. "Okay. Persephone and Gwyllgi can protect your body, right? Then I can go and lead you."

"I don't need-" Nick began, shaking his head. Michael was quick to interrupt. 

"You clearly don't know what you need. I doubt your father ever explained what it is like, and he hasn't been there since humans were. Either you go with me, or I call your father now. And he will definitely stop you," Michael said. 

"Fine. I guess I'll meet you at the gates?" Nick said, flicking a hand to set up the candles beside his bed. His confidence was more of an act, because he was glad he had some help. At least Michael knew where to go. Nick wasn’t sure if his magic would work there, espeically while astral projecting.

Gwyllgi sat between the candles and the door, ready to protect Nick. Persephone perched near the window, protecting the other side. Michael knew this couldn't possibly be a good idea, but it was too late. Nick lit the candles with another quick spell. 

"Be safe, nephew. I'll meet you there," Michael said. Lucifer would never forgive him if something happened. With one last look at the chanting boy, Michael left the penthouse. 

It couldn't have been more than five minutes. Michael was tapping his foot outside the gate. Nick would be his death, either from worry or Lucifer's rage. Part of him felt like it would be justified. He never should have agreed to help Nick. Just as he was about to go back to Earth and scrap the whole plan, a familiar figure turned up. 

"Fifteen minutes. No more," Michael said, glaring at Nick. His nephew was grinning, brash smile back in place. His similarity to a younger Samael would make this trip would be interesting. 

As soon as they entered the gates, Azrael was jumping on Michael, hugging him. He couldn't get a word out before she attempted to hug Nick. 

"I've missed you so much, nephew! How is school? It seems so interesting!" Azrael said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. 

"Rae, I know you want to talk to him, but it will have to wait. Right now, we have a strict time limit," Michael said, nearly dragging Nick along. 

"Fine, killjoy. I'll just come visit. We both know Luc and Nick like me better," Azrael said with a roll of her eyes. Michael always thought he was the boss just because he was older.

"Love you, Azrael," Nick said, following Michael. 

There were other angels, younger siblings, staring at them. Michael and Lucifer were powerful. Some of these angels hadn't even met Lucifer, but they recognized his son. The one who was upsetting everything. Recent events made it too difficult to ignore, particularly when a few of the older angels had been spending more time around humans.

"I can't tell if it's because I am extremely popular or unpopular," Nick muttered, aware of the eyes on him. 

"Maybe both. What does popularity matter anyway?" Michael said, ensuring they quickly left the square. With the right shortcuts, they were quickly at a door. 

"Is that her?" Nick asked, gazing at the solid walnut door. It had a Brigid's Cross carved into the door, which almost answered his question for him. 

"Yes. Are you okay?" Michael asked, patting his shoulder. 

"I will be," Nick said, knocking on the door. 

Nick was sure his heart would have stopped, if possible, when the door opened. A tall brunette stood there, smiling in a way that seemed to light up the whole room. Without a word, she put her arms out for him. Nick leans into her the best he can. He wishes he could feel the touch as more than the faint pressure he did. His morose musings were interrupted by Michael clearing his throat. 

"You don't have much time, Nick. Perhaps we should continue this inside," Michael said. "I'll give you some privacy, but when I knock, we have to leave."

"Thank you, Michael, for bringing me my son. Even if he bullied you into it," Brigid said, smiling fondly with only a hint of admonishment. Nick could listen to her forever.  _ Her _ son. Nick was scared it was a dream. As they moved into the room, he took in the surroundings. It was comfortable and homey, with a large fireplace and plush chairs. The part that truly broke him were the pictures on the wall. Most were of him. 

"I read your journal," he said, trying to choke back tears. 

"I know," she said, patting the seat next to her. "I know there isn't much time, but Nicholas, I love you. I am pleased beyond belief to tell you that in person. Or as close as," she said, stroking a hand along his cheek. 

"I love you, too. Before I ever read your journal," he answered. He was normally assured and always knew what to say.

"Let's stop all this maudlin business. Nicholas, I am proud of you. More than you could ever believe. Seeing you now, with your father, makes me feel so much better. Astra was wonderful, of course, but you and him need each other."

"I don't think he-"

"Stop right there. Michael told me enough about your trip to Hell. Don't ever think your father doesn't need or want you. I've never seen him that devastated, and I watched when he had to leave you." Brigid’s smile dropped as she firmly interrupted him. She truly believed everything she was saying. Or perhaps she did know it.

"I need you," Nick said, feeling like a child again.

"You have me. I'm always with you, even if you don't see or hear me. You are the best thing that happened in my life, even though it wasn't how I planned. But your father found you quickly enough to save you. I will never stop being thankful for that," Brigid said. Nick could feel a faint rustle as she stroked his hair. “Now, Nicholas, let’s take advantage. Do you have anything you want to know?”

Nick smiled, taking the chance to ask all the questions he’d been wondering since he opened the journal. She told him about his aunt and uncle, telling him about their childhood and the move to America. He learned about how his grandmother, Orla, was one of the most gifted conjurers of her generation, a trait obviously passed down. Brigid told him how much he resembled Rowan and how his eyes looked just like his grandfather Aodhán. Nick tried to commit every detail to memory. 

It seemed far too soon when there was a soft knock at the door. Nick wanted to ignore it, just to stay and enjoy his mother. He’d never thought he would have this opportunity. Even with the journal, he didn’t think he would be able to hear her voice and find out the details like her love of Irish literature and her study of languages. Apparently he got that from both sides. Brigid looked disappointed at the knock, glancing toward it with almost a glare. The look was enough to make Nick smile again. She didn’t hide anything.

“Your uncle says time is up,” Brigid said, patting Nick’s hand. “I hope this answered some questions for you.”

“I could talk to you forever,” Nick said. 

“I love you,  _ A stóirín _ ,” she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek, leading him to the door. Michael looked nervous, crossed between scared and disappointed.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But it is time.”

Nick kept himself from looking back as they left, despite how much he wanted to get one last look. He knew he wouldn’t leave if he did. Both Michael and Nick were silent on the trip back. Nick was resisting the urge to curse some of the angels who were glaring at him. He was in no mood for ridiculous shit about his father. He almost picked a fight with one just to have an excuse to use his aggression. 

Gwyllgi was laying next to him when he woke up. Persephone hooted angrily, berating him for taking so long. Nick nodded contritely, promising not to leave it so long again. 

"Yes, I would encourage you to be safer next time you decide to project," Lucifer said. Nick jumped, having not noticed his father sitting at his desk. His arms were crossed, and his face was a mix of annoyance and worry.

"You could have warned me," Nick said, glaring at Gwyllgi. 

"He does have other loyalties when it suits him," Lucifer said. Gwyllgi was a Hellhound, after all. Nick stood up, waving the candles out and sending them back to the box. 

"Nicholas, we are never going to risk that again," Michael said, walking into the room. He stopped when he noticed his brother glaring. They almost got away with that.

"Ah, so you were involved," Lucifer said. "It is so much easier when you admit it. I always did get bored of dragging the truth out."

"Dad, I understand you are upset," Nick began, running his hand through his hair. The more he did it, the more he looked like a young Samael, Michael thought. 

"Oh, you understand? That is why you didn't leave a note, let alone astral projecting at all," Lucifer said, voice booming. He rarely raised his voice, at least at his son. 

"Luce, I shouldn't have let him go. Blame me," Michael said, moving into the room and between his brother and nephew. 

"Falling on your sword now, are you, Brother?" Lucifer said, stepping closer. Nick was surprised there weren't red eyes. Gwyllgi was sitting up, whining as he looked from Lucifer to Nick. Persephone looked ready to swoop in. She had no loyalty to the Devil.

"Dad, I'm sorry. I didn't think about how you would feel," Nick said. "Can you just shout at me and get it over with?" 

Lucifer took a step back, as if slapped. Nick's words sounded too much like his own pleas at one time. His frustration, the acceptance of disappointment, it was all too familiar of a feeling. 

"Nicholas, I…I apologize," Lucifer said. 

"Luce, let's go in the other room. I think you both need a few minutes," Michael said, gesturing to the door while patting his nephew’s shoulder. Nick turned away, facing the windows rather than let his father see his feelings. Lucifer and Michael quietly shut the door behind them. Gwyllgi whined, nudging Nick's leg with his nose. Absentmindedly petting the Hound, Nick tried to remember every word, every smell, every touch from his mother. 

It was hours later when the smell of food drew Nick out of his room. Lucifer was cooking while Michael sat at the table. Neither seemed particularly talkative. Nick decided to take a spot across from Michael. 

"Dad, I'm-" Nick began, but barely got the words out. 

"Don't say you're sorry. Both of us know that isn't true. You are glad you were able to see her, and I can't fault you for that," Lucifer said without turning around. 

"I am sorry for worrying you. After, well, I should have been more considerate."

"Did you really do it out of thoughtlessness? Or was it a calculated risk?" Nick's face squinted in confusion. 

"Your father seems to believe you knew leaving a note would mean he would try to follow," Michael explained. Nick couldn't really deny it. That line of thought was definitely there when he decided to leave. 

"I'm trying to figure out if it was because you didn't want me there or if you wanted to hurt me," Lucifer said. "How long were you planning it?" 

"I wanted to go since I read her journal," Nick admitted, leaning on a chair. "Dad, I really didn't want to hurt you. I just needed to see her."

“That, I believe. I guess for now I just have to accept your word.” Lucifer nodded toward the table. “I made carbonara tonight. Let’s put this on hold an eat.”

* * *

"What did she say?" Sabrina asked, curled up on Nick's chest in his bed. She resented missing the adventure, but it was worth it if he got to meet his mother. 

"She was amazing," Nick said. "Her mother, my grandmother, was a conjurer. One of the best."

"Just like you," Sabrina said with a soft smile. She was glad Nick got to meet his mother. It was something she had always dreamed of, to the point she tried to summon her own mother. He picked up the hand on his chest and kissed it.

"Spellman, it was incredible. She was right next to me. I hugged her."

"While projecting?" Sabrina asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"It's possible if you alter the spell correctly," Nick said, brushing off the compliment. Sabrina rolled her eyes at his modesty. 

"How is your dad doing?" 

"We have a truce. I don’t try to go again for now, and he won’t kill Uncle Michael.”

“How generous,” she teased, leaning up to peck his cheek. “Tell me about about your grandmother again. Orla, right?”

**Author's Note:**

> Translations (all done by internet research, so apologies!):
> 
> Máthair dhíl - dearest mother  
> A stóirín - my little treasure


End file.
